Left Turn at Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “I thought you’d gone with Aunt Grace to her quilting circle,” Layla said. She never would have brought her mother back here if she’d known Gran was around.

  “I told Grace to go without me. I figured we both needed a break.”

  “What are you doing sitting down here in the dark?”

  Gran looked down at her clasped hands. “Gathering my courage, I suppose.”

  “For what?” Alarm crashed through her. “Are you all right? Is it your heart? Did the doctor say something?”

  “My heart is… very heavy.”

  Layla had never heard her grandmother sound so lost. “Gran, you’re scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, with a deep sigh. “I don’t mean to.”

  Layla rushed across the room to kneel in front of her grandmother’s chair. She took Gran’s hands, surprised to find them cold as ice. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Gran stared down at their entwined fingers. “Did you know sounds from the porch travel remarkably well?”

  Layla’s eyes squeezed shut. “You heard us,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t found out like that. I can’t believe Elizabeth didn’t tell us she had another child. He’s the only reason she came back at all.”

  “I knew about Josh,” Gran said. “Your mother told me when she first came to me.”

  “But not me?” Pain drove even deeper at the knowledge that Gran had kept the secret, too.

  “I suppose Elizabeth was afraid of how you would react,” Gran said in a soft voice that held an edge of reproach. “From what I overheard she had reason to be.”

  Her defenses went on full alert at the subtle reprimand. “She lied,” Layla burst out. “That woman has done nothing but lie since she came back. She doesn’t care about us or the damage she’s caused.”

  “That’s not true,” Gran said, her expression becoming more resolved. “And the damage that was done to this family is as much my fault as it is hers. More even. Elizabeth has changed a lot. She’s grown up and taken responsibility for her life. She’s become the kind of mother I should have been.”

  “Don’t say that,” Layla said. “You have been amazing, and you’ve given me everything.”

  Gran reached out and stroked Layla’s hair. “And I’d give you more, which is why you need to know the whole truth,” she said. “Your mother wanted to protect you from it, even at the expense of her own needs, but I can’t let her take all the blame anymore.”

  “I don’t understand,” Layla said, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.

  Gran didn’t say anything for a long while. Out in the foyer, the grandfather clock began to chime, sounding out the hour in a slow, mournful toll. Layla shivered as if each beat was somehow marking down time itself. An end of something that could never be recovered.

  As the last note died away, Gran looked directly into Layla’s eyes. “I want you to understand that whatever my motivations, I don’t regret raising you,” she said. “I need you to believe that because I’m not sure I would survive if I lost you.”

  Foreboding threaded up Layla’s spine, weaving amongst her nerve endings like a slithering snake. “You won’t,” she said, even as she suppressed another chill.

  “Do you remember when you were a child and I used to say you were my miracle?” Gran asked. “My second chance?”

  Layla nodded and managed to speak despite the knot of fear that threatened to choke her. “Sure. I never understood what you meant, though.”

  “Baby, you were my second chance to right all the things I’d done wrong with your mother,” Gran said in a broken whisper. “To make up for all the ways I’d failed her.”

  Layla could hear the anguish in her grandmother’s voice and part of her wanted to tell Gran to stop. Another part needed to know what she had to say. “How did you fail her?”

  “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.” Gran glanced away. “I know you think what your mother did was terrible, but what I did was so much worse.”

  “How could anything be worse than abandoning your own child?” Layla asked.

  Gran swallowed, and tears filled her eyes. “Because I abandoned her first. Elizabeth didn’t simply go to your aunt’s after a fight. I sent her away to hide her pregnancy from the world. Because I was afraid of what the scandal would do to me.”

  Layla stared at her grandmother, and for a moment it was like she was looking at a different person. “I don’t—” She made an inarticulate sound. “You mean you sent her away to spare her from a scandal?”

  Barbara’s chin shook back and forth, and she raked a shaky hand across the tight knot of hair on top of her head. “No. I told myself it was in her best interest, but in many ways it was for mine. I was being considered for Chief of Staff at the hospital, and I knew a pregnant teenage daughter might end any chance I had of getting the position. Elizabeth already had a bad reputation. I’m sure a lot of people felt it was a matter of time before she ended up pregnant. So when I found out, I panicked.”

  “And sent her to Aunt Grace’s?” Layla asked, heart pounding.

  “Drove her there the next day. I didn’t even give her a chance to tell her boyfriend.”

  Layla drew in a soft breath of surprise. “You knew who he was?”

  “I didn’t know his name and frankly I didn’t care,” Gran said. “Elizabeth had it in her head that she was going to marry him and live happily ever after. I told her she wasn’t capable of being a wife and mother, and I fully believed that at the time. I said some unforgivable things.”

  “And you never considered that my father might want to know he had a daughter?” Layla asked, rising to pace to the bay window. She could see her reflection in the glass. Her eyes were dark and wide, her skin so pale it was like she was wearing a Halloween mask. A face she didn’t recognize.

  “No, I was too intent on containing the scandal,” Gran said.

  She’d been deprived of her father because of Gran. Every fiber of Layla’s being screamed that the story couldn’t be true. Gran couldn’t have been so cold and self-absorbed. So cruel and unfeeling to her own daughter. Except there had been clues. Beth had tried to explain, but Layla hadn’t wanted to hear anything that might impugn her grandmother’s honor.

  Layla lowered her head to rest it against the cool glass of the window.

  “I also told Beth she needed to put the baby up for adoption,” Gran said.

  Layla gasped at the almost physical blow, and whirled around to face her grandmother. “You wanted her to give me away to strangers?”

  “I demanded it,” Gran said, closing her eyes as if to block out the memory. “I made the arrangements, and then I went up there with your grandfather when Elizabeth was five months along, and I stood over her until she signed the papers. I could tell she didn’t want to, but I insisted. I wanted her to go to school and knew she wouldn’t have a future if she were saddled with a baby. Besides, I thought you needed a stable family.”

  “Plus, no one would ever have to know. Elizabeth could disappear for a year, go off to college, and then come back as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile, you’d get your precious Chief of Staff position.”

  Tears rolled down Gran’s cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered in a broken voice.

  Ice filled Layla’s veins. “She must have really messed things up by running away and then dumping the evidence of her shame on your doorstep. What did you do then? Try to get rid of me again? I’m surprised you didn’t spirit me away before anyone found out.”

  “I couldn’t,” Gran said. “The minute I held you, I fell in love. I knew you were my chance to make it up to Elizabeth for failing her.”

  “What about your dream job? Weren’t you worried about that?”

  Gran swallowed. “I’d been named Chief of Staff while Elizabeth was gone. When you arrived, everyone was more scandalized by the fact that you’d been abandoned.”

  “And you got to be the hero.” Layla filled in. “Selflessly stepping in to raise me while your da
ughter ran off to live a life of hedonistic pleasure. Poor Dr. McCarthy. She’s so noble and good. Too bad her daughter was such a disappointment.”

  Gran nodded her head. “Yes. I got the job, and I survived the scandal. But the price was losing my daughter.”

  “What about what I lost?” Layla cried as pain and disillusionment rose out of her like a thundercloud. “You let me think my mother never wanted me when all the time it was you who tried to give me away. I grew up with no parents because of you.”

  Gran rose from her chair and crossed the room. “I know. I was weak and selfish, and I am so sorry.” She reached up to touch Layla’s cheek.

  Layla pulled back, certain she’d fall apart if her grandmother touched her. “How does sorry make up for every missed Mother’s Day or birthday? How does sorry make it hurt less that I had to go to Father-Daughter dances with Emma’s dad? Or that everyone in this town watched me to see if I would turn out like my mother?”

  “It doesn’t,” Gran said, clasping her hands against her chest. “I can never make it up to you, but I can help you repair your relationship with your mother. She’s not the monster you imagined. She was just a scared teenager.”

  Layla could feel her heart cracking open. “And you were a scared icon holding on to your precious image.”

  “I know, and I’ve spent every day of my life trying to forgive myself.” Gran’s voice shook as she spoke. “I know I can’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I hope you can understand some day.”

  “Understand that my entire life was a lie?”

  “That’s not true. I never lied about loving you or about how proud I am of you.”

  “And how am I supposed to believe that?” Layla asked, tears filling her eyes until her grandmother’s face blurred. “Gran, you were the one person I could always count on. You were my hero. All my life I wanted to be just like you, and now I find out that the person I knew never even existed. You were a lie, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  In high school, Layla had tried everything to convince people she wasn’t like her mother. Everything she wore, everything she said, and even the way she moved, stemmed from her desire to be different from Elizabeth McCarthy. Layla never allowed her hips to sway when she walked down the hall. She never let her gaze linger too long on a boy, keeping a wide berth from him, especially if he had a girlfriend. She didn’t flirt or tease.

  Of course, after T.J. had attacked her at the dance none of that had mattered. She’d been labeled a slut, and any protestations had been met with rolled eyes and nasty smirks.

  So, then she’d given up trying to prove she was a good girl, and done her best to be what everyone assumed her to be. In her first year of college she’d lost herself in a haze of meaningless sexual encounters. It hadn’t taken much to attract a willing partner for the night. Hold a guy’s gaze, offer a half smile, and he’d become her slave. Beth was right. That kind of power was as addicting as any drug. She was in control. Or so she thought.

  In the end all she’d gotten was a few random hours of bliss, though to be honest the bliss usually hadn’t lasted that long. Most guys had been more interested in scoring with her than making sure she found pleasure.

  She’d also let her grades slip, and had even been put on academic probation. Still, she hadn’t been willing to give up her nightly prowls of local nightclubs and bars. She’d needed the escape. As long as she’d been able to block out all memories of T.J. and that awful night, she’d been fine. Until she’d woken up one morning in a strange bed with someone she couldn’t remember. Not even a name. She’d stumbled home and cried for three days.

  Her roommate finally forced her to go to the campus clinic where a counselor had diagnosed her with depression. Walking home with a bottle of pills had served as a very good wake-up call. Back in her dorm, she’d dumped the pills and hit the books. She’d sworn off men and hadn’t gone on a date for a year. Even when she did go out, she kept her emotions encased in a cocoon that kept the world out and her heart safe.

  Except, the version of her mother she’d always imagined wasn’t entirely true. And the woman Layla had modeled her life after was nothing but an illusion. Layla had tried so hard to be like her grandmother. To make Gran proud so that she could forget the daughter who’d broken her heart. She’d played by the rules because that was what her grandmother had taught her to do.

  And for what? In the end she’d still lost everything. Her business, her reputation, her savings, her self-respect. Even her own sense of judgment had been shattered.

  Maybe Beth had been right after all. Maybe Layla should stop trying to convince people that she wasn’t exactly like her mother. Besides, there was something to be said for a few hours of bliss. A respite from the chaos roaring through her head like a freight train.

  And she knew exactly where to find that bliss.

  She dressed strategically. Black halter dress, black stilettos, hair straightened to silky smoothness. Then she drove to Grayson’s. His SUV was the only car in the driveway.

  Grayson opened the door and then his mouth. Layla shut both. The first with her foot, the second with a gentle brush of her finger.

  “Are your aunt and uncle still away on the grandparent’s tour?” she asked.

  He nodded, his eyes taking in her transformation in a hot – very hot – sweeping glance.

  She smiled. “Good. Play your cards right, and you can have a fantastic night.”

  “It’s improving by the second,” he said, one arm snaking around her waist to haul her closer.

  She took over then, hooking her hands behind his neck to tug his head down. It was more of an attack than a kiss. One meant to dominate and set the rules.

  Rule number one being that she was in charge. He seemed amenable to that. To a degree, anyway. He switched their positions, trapping her between the wall and his body. She liked the new perspective enough not to make a fuss. His hands traveled up her thigh, and she moaned. When he reached her dress his fingers crushed the fabric, pulling it even higher.

  His lips traveled across her cheek to her neck and then to the sensitive space at her collarbone, leaving tiny bites. “I hope this isn’t a dream,” he whispered in her ear.

  “No dream.” She pushed against his shoulder, but only so she could take his hand and lead him further into the house. “Where?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, holding her flush against his chest. Again, the sensation felt too good to protest his taking charge once more. They almost didn’t make it to the bedroom. Three times they paused in the hallway. Layla was half-crazed by the time they reached the threshold, and a bubble of panic welled up within her. She had to keep control. Couldn’t get lost. This was about finding bliss. This was about forgetting.

  She pushed against his chest until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sank down and settled back on his forearms. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. Then they were kissing and rolling. Biting, touching, sighing. He seemed to want to explore every inch of her body, and as much as she wanted that, she needed something else more. Oblivion.

  “Hurry,” she whispered. “Just hurry. We can play later. I need this now.”

  He froze.

  She opened her eyes to find him studying her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe I should be asking you that.”

  “I’m fine, except now I’m getting frustrated. You’re not a tease, are you? Work a girl into a frenzy, and then call a halt?”

  “You were already frenzied, and I don’t think it had anything to do with me.”

  She lowered her head, trailing her lips to the sensitive shell of his ear, as he’d done to her earlier.

  He shuddered and cursed, his head dropping back to the mattress. For a second his arms came around her, then he muttered – she thought it was “no,” and then “I must be crazy.” Then, before she could blink, he levered away from her and stood.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

/>   “Again, I could ask the same question.”

  “I thought I was trying to have a good time.”

  His entire body stilled. “A good time,” he echoed. “Is that what this is?”

  She sat up, and his chest rose sharply. He stared for another moment before turning his back. “We have to stop.”

  Heat surged into her cheeks as she scrambled from the bed. Hot tears of frustration welled in her eyes, and she let out a sound of despair. “I’m sorry.”

  He took her shoulders and spun her around. His fingers coasted along her neck and chills raced down her spine. She tried to bolt, but his hands clamped down on her shoulder, holding her in place.

  “Let go, and I’ll get out of your way,” she said.

  “You’re not leaving until we talk.”

  She broke away. “What’s to talk about? You don’t want me. It’s not that complicated.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course I want you.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest, and she could feel his heart racing. “Tell me what happened.”

  She tried to jerk back, but he held fast. “I told you, nothing.”

  “Something made you dress up like a femme fatale and try to seduce me.”

  “Are you complaining? It wasn’t to your satisfaction?”

  “Honey, I’m about to explode, but call me old-fashioned. I like the women I’m with to want me, not an escape from some emotional trauma. Especially with you. With you it has to be making love, not screwing so you can feel better for a night.”

  Her flush deepened until her skin felt on fire.

  She burst into tears.

  Alarm flashed across his face, and he dragged her against him, but this time to comfort her. “Honey, tell me. Is it your grandmother? Did she have a relapse?”

  “Noooo,” she wailed.

  “Then what? I can’t help unless you tell me.”

  “I already showed you how you can help me.”

  He let out a frustrated half-groan/half-chuckle. “I was five seconds away from letting you have me, too. But then I’d feel like a scumbag, and you’d feel used and ashamed. I told you; the first time I’m with you I want it to mean something. I’m selfish. I want all of you.”